Reflections on Return
by Gater101
Summary: OneShot. This is what her people warned her about. Sequel to Promises of Return.


Title: Reflections on Return  
Summary: This is what her people warned her about.  
Characters: John, Teyla. Others  
Pairing: John/Teyla  
Rating: M  
Notes: **Sequel to **_**Promises of Return**_

He'd been by her side for most of the day, silent and stoic, evasive yet present. To begin with, it had been endearing, comforting to have him wish to be so close to her but as they day wore on and he walked where she did, she'd become frustrated. There was nothing for him to do because he'd flown the medical team over for their weekly check up of the infants and the elderly, while the Athosians went about their daily business. He was neither medical, nor Athosian and he seemed out of place.

There was a sadness surrounding him that had let him follow her during the day. He was distant when she tried to draw him into conversation and she wondered if he had always been so. She knew he was not but she wondered why he had changed so suddenly in the short months he had been away. She has known that the life of the Earthlings of Atlantis is not an easy one; she has seen it in the faces of the once young soldiers, the doctors, the scientists, the teachers. She has seen it in John. She has wondered what atrocities they see and how often and she thanks the Ancestors that she chose not to stay in Atlantis with him, with them.

He slipped away some time before evening meal but she had no looked for him. He had chosen to be with her and he had chosen to leave her; he had his reasons and she would not interfere. She did not know what his intentions were, if they had changed since last time or even if he has taken another to bed. She has not promised herself to him, nor he to her and she knows that he is a man – a handsome man, who would draw attentions from many women.

She oversees the preparation of the evening meal but she did not help – Charin, her mentor, had warned the people off Teyla's cooking and she had never entered a kitchen since. She did not question their choice. Her mind drifted from one thought to another, never settling on one for too long. Someone murmurs her name, a question and she smiles with an answer but she wonders if she really hears them. Amongst her people, Teyla had never felt so isolated, so misplaced and she knows that it is John's fault.

His arrival had stirred rumours amongst her people. They knew he only ever returned during the harvest and the harvest was still many months away. The eyes had fallen to her as she'd greeted them, the visitors from Atlantis – him. They'd been civil, friendly but not overly so but she wondered what her people thought when they saw him around her for the duration of the day.

She sighed, wearily and followed the servers to her tent, carrying dishes in both hands. She loved her people, she loved the life they led and she would not change that. But sometimes she found herself wondering what her life would be like if she had gone with Doctor Weir's expedition and lived in Atlantis. Her people had seemed understanding when she had hesitated to stay but she knew she could not leave them. Her place was with them.

Surprise rippled through her when she saw him seated at her table speaking candidly with those around him. Her childhood friend, Kanaan, and the woman to John's left seemed particularly taken by him and Teyla fought the urge to both smile and frown. She wondered what had brought his change of mood; had he received word from his beloved back on Atlantis? But when his hazel eyes met hers, she knew it was an act. She could see through him, she thought as she placed the dishes on the table near the centre. He smiled up at her as she leant close to him, the corner of his lip tainted with a hue of blue she had not noticed before. Again, she wondered.

She seated herself in the space that the woman – Camita – vacated and helped herself to the food on the plates. He hesitated, his eyes still on her before turning slowly and following her actions. Her people did not find it strange to share their evening meals with others – they were a trading people, kind and generous and those of Atlantis stayed quite frequently. Teyla spoke with those around her, observed John speak with some of the others too all the while she tried not to concentrate on the hand he'd placed on her leg.

The meal was drawing to a close when one of the scientists, a young woman with dark curled hair and skin darker than Teyla's, approached John and laid her hand on his shoulder. Teyla turned away as she leaned down to speak in the Colonel's ear, as he turned his head into her. He nodded once, again, his hand withdrawing from her lap to pat the young woman's hand before she walked away.

Teyla looked away again when he turned his eyes to her and lifted a cup to her mouth. She could sense when he looked away, the weight of his gaze dropping from her face. She sighed.

In her tent, sometime later, Teyla stoked the glowing embers of the fire with a metal rod, willing the flames to burn brighter and heat her chilled skin. She sat the rod aside and rubbed at her arms, willing the cold spots away. The team from Atlantis had brought their own tents and supplies and did not wish to intrude on the Athosians' hospitality. John had gone with them.

The water from the basin helped warm her skin for a moment but the chill quickly settled back onto her wet skin. She shivered but continued, needing to wash the day's worries away. Many of her people had fallen ill and when John had seen it, he'd acquiesced her with a 'just a cold' explanation. She did not know what it meant, but she was oddly comforted by his lack of concern. She shivered again and listened to the water drip into the basin as she wrung it out before sliding it down her arm. She had to stop or she was going to freeze.

She turned to reach for the dryer that she'd laid out behind her and stopped. John was standing inside her tent, frozen on the spot, watching her. She moved to cover herself with her hands but he shook his head, taking a step towards her. She did not move as he entered her personal space but she did not reciprocate his touch when he laid his hands on her hips. She studied his face, observed the tired lines around his eyes, the blue tinge to the skin on his neck. She frowned, her fingers reaching up of their accord and running across the blemish. It was unlike anything she had ever seen and when she touched it, she saw him flinch, felt his hand on her wrist and the emptiness when he pulled back from her.

She didn't question him but she did turn from him, lifting her long woollen coat and tugging it around herself. She was shaking again, the cold seeping into her bones. She moved away from him, towards the fire and watched him in the reflector that hung above it. He looked down, his hand gripping the place she'd touched him and she could practically feel the self-loathing swimming from him.

Again, she wondered. Again, she did not ask.

He looked up and caught her eyes staring at him but she did not look away. They stayed like that for some time, staring at reflections of eyes and she wondered why he had come, if he would leave, if he would _stay_. She didn't know which would be worse.

He moved towards her, slowly, yet determined and she followed his movement with her eyes. He stopped a short distance from her, his eyes finding hers again, questioning, uncertain. She did not waver, allowing him to decide the next move. If he should turn, she would not follow. If he should stay, she will not question.

She felt his hands slide around her hips, felt his strength pulling her back against him and she went, not quite willing but not resisting. He buried his nose in her shorter than normal hair and she can hear him breathe her in. His fingers slipped under her cardigan and she let the gasp of surprise leave her lips.

"Teyla..." he murmured into her neck, his eyes finding hers in the reflector.

She gulped down, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. His hand rose, shifting the hair from her neck and she felt his tongue below her ear, followed by his lips. She did not lose his gaze in the mirror. She moistened her lips and heard him murmur something incomprehensible into her neck. She shivered again, though not from cold. She loosened her grip on her cardigan, letting it part in the middle, letting the air tighten her already hard nipples. She heard his groan and smiled to herself, though he saw it in the mirror. She met his eyes again and liquid heat pooled between her legs. He shuffled, and she watched as he disrobed, his heavy jacket landing on the ground somewhere behind her, followed by the black shirt she'd grown to appreciate. She heard the jingle of his belt and she turned to aide him but he shook his head and urged her back around.

She watched from the mirror. His eyes never left her face.

Slowly, he moved back to her and she revelled in the lightness of his touch on her collar bones as he swept her hair away from her neck, his fingers gliding easily under her heavy cardigan. His fingers brushed her breasts, eliciting a small mewl of excitement from her. She watched the grin spread on his face, possessive and hungry. He eased the material from her shoulders, his knuckles grazing her flesh as he did so. It seemed like painfully long hours before the robe fell to the ground with a thrump. She did not mind when he kicked it away.

He stood back from her once more but Teyla did not feel exposed, nor cold, his gaze heating her more than the kindling fire ever could. It was not long before he'd stepped to her again, his hands circling her waist, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across her abdomen and up but not far enough. His tongue teased her neck, suckling at the pulse point, grazing the thin tendons with his teeth as his knuckles graze the underside of her heavy breasts. She gasped and her hips rocked backwards of their own accord and the low moan fell from her lips when she felt his hardness, his desire for her rub against her lower back.

She watched as he closed his eyes, his lips parting as she gripped him gently in her hands. He was warm and hard in her hand, just like she remembered. She stroked him a few times until he let out his own moan of pleasure and she smiled when he opened his heavy lids and watched her. His fingers rose wickedly to her breasts, weighing them in his hands, plucking at her nipples with his thumb and forefinger. She gasped, moaned, closed her eyes and let her head fall back against his chest.

She was surprised when he dropped a feathery kiss to her forehead and she opened her eyes, tilting her head further back so she could see his face. He smiled down at her lazily, his lips descending onto hers. They were as she remembered and she moaned against them when he played with her with his tongue. She wanted to turn into him, to devour his mouth but when she tried, he held her hips firm against him and she acquiesced when she felt him undulate against her.

She found she couldn't breathe when he ducked out of her vision behind her, his lips following a meandering trail to her lower back, his fingers dancing across her abdomen, her thighs and back up. She closed her eyes, no longer able to see his, and bucked her hips slightly when she felt his breath on her moist core from behind. There was a sensuality in the quietness that she had not expected. She laughed lightly when she felt him lay a kiss on one buttock then the other. She felt, more than heard, his returning laugh.

Her breath quickened when she felt him circle her but she did not open her eyes. His fingers traced her inner thighs and he nudged her legs apart with his shoulders. She frowned quickly but did as he bid, relishing in the touch of his nimble fingers so close to where she wanted him the most. His warm breath bathed her heat and her hips involuntarily jerked towards him. She could almost feel his smile against her.

She moaned, loudly, when his finger traced her folds and she let out a surprised shriek when his tongue found her swollen bud. She bucked against him, throwing her head back and letting out a low groan as his tongue traced a lazy path from one end of her wet warmth to the other. His tongue slid between her folds and she gripped his head, urging him further into her but it was not enough and he knew it. She urged him with words, gasps, mewls of pleasure and he rewarded her by sliding his finger into her and sucking on her nub, drawing it between his teeth and flicking it. She was pretty sure she'd never felt anything like the sensations soaring through her body and she bucked wildly against his fingers and mouth with ardent fervour, the tight spring in her gut ready to ping at any moment.

When it did, it was with a flash of colour and a wave of dark nothingness that made her sag into his waiting arms. She gasped loudly, breathless but did not have time to recover because he was behind her, his strong arms holding up her weak body and he slid into her easily from behind, grasping onto the shelf above the fire for support.

She groaned and he matched it with one of his own. He was so big. She was so full. She could feel his hips twitching against her buttocks, could feel her walls still fluttering around his desire. She reached out to the shelf also, holding herself up.

"Look at me," he commanded gently and she did. She looked up and met his eyes, crying out with pleasure as he moved inside of her slightly.

She knew she would not last long with him inside of her so. She needed him to move, needed to feel his power inside of her thrusting her, taking her over the edge. She moved for him, when he seemed unable to do so. He hissed as he bucked against her, using his hands on her hips to guide her movements. He kept it slow, his fingers tracing up and down her back in a gentle caress. She enjoyed watching their ardour, their reactions to one another in the reflector. She could see as well as feel when his hands wound around to her breasts and she watched in fascination with him as he tugged her nipples again, moistening his lips and ducking his head to her neck to nibble at her collar bones again.

She fluttered around him and he moved faster slightly, murmuring in her ear words she did not understand;

"Fuck, you're so fucking hot... I..." He trailed off into a groan and she replied with one of her own when he pushed her body further over but not so far that she could not see his reflection, that he could not see hers. He pounded into her as his hand fisted in her hair and they both cried out in unison as his thrusts became harder and harder, more fervent, more needy. She gripped the shelf in front of her and surged backwards against him, wanting to feel more of him inside of her. He complied, pushing her legs apart with his knees and urging her further forward. She didn't care that she couldn't see him anymore, she needed to _feel _him.

His fingers found her clit and rubbed it furiously and she could feel it coming, could feel that blessed wave swell inside of her. She bucked harder against him as he pounded further into her. She was sure that his grip on her hip would leave a mark but she did not care. She wanted to be marked.

She felt him bathe her walls with his seed, heard her name called out into the still air but not loud enough for anyone else to hear and it signalled her own release. She came hard upon him and she felt more of his seed shoot into her, warming her, filling her up and she moaned his name over and over and over.

Satiated, she turned in his arms, winding her fingers into his hair and pulled him into a breathless, slow kiss. He pulled back slowly and rested his forehead on hers, tucking a few strands of sweaty hair behind her ear. She smiled shyly, lowering her gaze but he nudged her with his nose and she looked back up and he smiled.

"Come on."

He didn't say anything else before leaning down and scooping her up into his arms. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling when he laid her gently on the warm bed. He hovered over her for a moment and she was concerned he would leave but he simply smiled and lowered himself onto the bed next to her. She turned onto her side and propped her head up with her elbow, letting her hair rest across her sweaty back. He lay on his front, his face in the pillow and she smiled gently, feeling something stir within her.

Her eyes descended his back, reaching out to touch the curious blue marks there. They did not feel different to his other skin but she studied it and wondered what it was. She felt him turn his head to look at her, only half his face visible from the pillow and she smiled up at him, her fingers rising to stroke the side of his face.

He studied her for a moment, his face unreadable then he glanced down to her lips, her naked chest. She let him.

"I turned into a bug." She didn't say anything and waited for him to continue at his own pace. "My skin turned blue and scaly, my hand was the size of a football." She didn't understand the terms he used but she understood that it was not a pleasant experience for him. She did not understand how one could turn into a 'bug' but she believed him. She leaned back when he looked away, looked inside. It was the distant look she'd seen on his face all day and she wished it away. It had no place here. He looked up to her again, his eyes vacant for a moment before the worry tinged them again. "I attacked Elizabeth, a couple of Marines... I was different, an animal. If it hadn't been for the doc..."

He didn't finish and she didn't need him to. She understood.

"He said they'll fade in time," he mumbled into his pillow. She smiled down at him. "I want you to know..."

"Sshh," she murmured to his sleepy tone but he shook his head.

"No... I want you to know that I want to be here... It's me that's here; not something else."

She nodded, her eyes welling up slightly. He'd been afraid she'd think he was a monster and it was the monster that wanted her, not him.

"I am glad," she told him honestly as she stroked his forehead with her delicate fingers. She lay down and he moved into her open arms, resting his head in the crook of her shoulder, his breath washing over her breast, his ear lingering over her heart.

"I love your heartbeat," he mumbled sleepily and she placed a soft kiss to his unruly hair.

"Go to sleep, John." She pulled the quilt over them and tucked it around him. She stroked his head until his breathing deepened and evened, willing the nightmares she knows he must face away. "You are safe here."

She drifted off to the sound of her own heartbeat.


End file.
